Seeker
by cellorocksmyworld
Summary: Remus Lupin is a world famous young Seeker, unfairly banned from the game. He is hired at Hogwarts, and Harry's third year goes a little differently...
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I don't own nothin.

Seeker, Chapter 1

"C'mon Harry! We've gotta get good seats!"

Ron pulled on Harry's sleeve urgently as they entered the enormous stadium. Adrenaline pumped through the two boys' veins as they hurtled up the velvet-covered stairs. Mr. Weasley called out rather futilely to them, "They're all good seats in the Top Box!" but they were too far gone to hear him. Hermione ascended the stairs in a much more dignified fashion, rolling her eyes and muttering under her breath about the general inferiority and absolute ridiculousness of boys.

By the time the rest of the group got there, Harry and Ron had already settled into front row seats, and were gawking at the awesome spectacle playing out beneath them.

The Quidditch World Cup. Possibly one of the riskiest, most troublesome, most time – consuming events to prepare for, but in the end, it was always worth it. Harry had never seen so many people packed into one place before. Stands almost a hundred stories tall rose straight up in the air, surrounding a pitch half a mile long. The sheer size of it boggled his mind. Beneath them, a hundred thousand spectators were filing into their seats or, if they were not so well off, jostling about in the standing room only areas. Harry smiled as he saw a man lift his young son onto his shoulders so that he could see.

Harry and Ron were distracted from their wide – eyed inspection of the stadium by the arrival of the rest of their group. Hermione sat next to Harry and exclaimed at the spectacular seats. Mr. Weasley beamed with pleasure. Fred and George tried to sell some of their inventions to the other occupants of the Top Box while Percy looked on in disdain.

"He's put off because his lover, Mr. Barty Crouch, isn't here," Ron whispered to his friends, jerking his head in Percy's direction. Harry and Hermione, who had both met Mr. Crouch in the campground, snickered appreciatively.

Later on they were joined by Ludo Bagman, a rather short, stocky man with a round, boyish face and a nose that looked as if it had come off the worse in a fight with a brick wall. Being the Head of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry, and also the former Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps, he had inside information on every player on the Irish and Bulgarian teams. Harry and Ron listened in fascination as he described their strengths and weaknesses, their signature moves, their pregame rituals…

"Personally, I think that the Bulgarian team is superior, but the Irish have one advantage, and that's their Seeker," Ludo said finally.

"Remus Lupin," Ron said, sounding slightly awestruck.

"Who's that?" Harry asked curiously.

"Who's Remus Lupin? Who's Remus Lupin!"

Bagman looked appalled at Harry's ignorance.

"Only the single best flyer in the entire wizarding world! The best Seeker the world has ever seen, I reckon! Why his statistics alone are phenomenal! He's never lost a match, not with any team he's played with, did you know that?"

Ron nodded, a dreamy look of admiration plastering his face. Ludo shook his head in amazement.

"Honestly, not knowing who Remus Lupin is? Amazing… I know him personally, flown with him several times. Of course, he's far too young for us to have ever been teammates, he's only twenty or so. It's a shame, really. Had he been with us during the World Cup of '82…"

Ludo grimaced, as though he smelled something foul. But he brightened immediately.

"He's a fine lad, in any case. Never met a person who didn't like him! Except for those… _Ministry_ types…" Ludo's eyes narrowed and his fists clenched.

Harry's brow furrowed in curiosity. "What d'you mean by that?"

The former Beater looked up, momentarily confused. "Oh, that's right, you don't know anything about him. Well, some people give him a hard time because he's…well…a _werewolf_."

"A werewolf?"

"Yep. Some people hate him for it of course. But he just laughs it off, like he does everything. He's the kind of guy people can't dislike for very long. I've seen him joking around with wizards I've never even seen _talk_ before, let alone laugh!"

Harry was still bursting with questions when Bagman looked at his watch.

"Oh bugger! It's almost time to start!" He stood up, pointed his wand at his throat and muttered something. Then, with a voice amplified a hundred times louder than normal, he greeted the crowd.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the four hundred and twenty – second Quidditch World Cup!"

The crowd roared with excitement. Scarlet fireworks erupted from one side of the stadium while green ones shot into the air from the other. The occupants of the Top Box had to put their hands over their ears as Bagman shouted to be heard over the ruckus.

"Presenting the Bulgarian team! Ivanova!"

A scarlet streak entered the stadium to thunderous applause. Harry could hear Fred and George booing emphatically, and grinned. Ludo continued to announce the rest of the team as the crowd applauded.

"Dimitrov, Vulchanov, Volkov, Levski, aaaaaaaannd…. Krum!"

As the Weasley's hissed and shouted, Harry focused his Omnioculars in on Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker. He was a thin, whippy young man with a dark complexion and a look in his eyes that spelled danger. Harry disliked him immediately. He looked like the kind of person who pushed opponents off their brooms without blinking an eye. Kind of like a dark – haired Malfoy.

But Harry didn't have long to think about Krum before Ludo was announcing the arrival of the Irish.

"Presenting… Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Moran! Mullett! Quigley! Aaaaaaaaannnd… Lupin!"

The Irish National team was met with much more enthusiasm from the crowd, leaving the Bulgarians looking rather dejected. Harry had a feeling that this popularity had much to do with the Irish Seeker. Lupin's image filled the enormous screens that hung from the sides of the stadium, his handsome face creased with the biggest grin Harry had ever seen. The young man, really still a boy, looked as though flying was what he lived for. His exuberance shone through like the sun. Holding onto his broom with his knees, he pumped his fists in the air and cheered, then flattened himself against the broom and sped around the sides of the stadium, silky brown hair waving in the wind. Harry and Ron gaped as he flipped, did handstands, rode his broom like a skateboard… making it all look easy. The boys had found their new idol.

The Bulgarians glared at the ecstatic Seeker with the utmost contempt as he whipped around. The referee called all the players to the center of the field to shake hands, and if looks were curses, Lupin would have had tentacles sprouting from his nose and hemorrhoids in places nobody wants to hear about. But as the players were shaking hands, something miraculous happened. As much as the Bulgarians tried to fight it, they found themselves smiling at this happy go lucky young man with the cowlick sticking up off the top of his head. It was just as Ludo Bagman had said; no one could stay angry with him for very long. Well, almost no one. The only exception, it seemed, was Krum. He still looked like he wanted to twist Lupin's head off.

Before Harry knew it, the game had begun. He had thought the Hogwarts games were brutal, but this reminded him of those cage-fighting shows Dudley always watched back at Privet Drive. It didn't take Harry long to realize that blood flowed freely, and frequently in the high stakes games of professional Quidditch. But that was what made it so exciting.

"And Mullett has the Quaffle! He's really on fire, you can barely see him! Oh, watch out Levski! Get outta the way! Oops, too late. And –oh! – that has got to hurt! Mullett drops the Quaffle by way of a Bludger from Volkov, aaaannd… Vulchanov recovers it! Going toward the Irish goalposts… he's by himself now… just Quigley at the hoops now and – wow! An amazing dive on Lupin's part there, must have scared Vulchanov out of his wits! Don't give me that look Igor, I'm just the commentator. And he drops the Quaffle, recovered by Moran, and he's off…"

It never ceased to amaze Harry how the Irish Seeker managed to play a part in every aspect of the game. He dived in front of the Bulgarian Chasers, forcing them to drop the Quaffle, he knocked Bludgers around with the end of his broom, and he still managed to pull a few "Wronski Feints", as Ron put it, on poor Victor Krum, whose face now resembled a ripe tomato. It seemed that Ludo Bagman had been correct. Remus Lupin was most definitely the best Seeker the world had ever seen. At every prank or maneuver the young man made, the crowd screamed and cheered.

Then one Wronski Feint ended badly. Krum usually managed to pull out of the dive just in time, but it seemed his luck had run out. He slammed into the ground at a breakneck speed, burying the front of his broom in the dirt and pitching him forward onto the ground.

"Ooh – ee! That did not look good!" muttered Bagman as wizamedics rushed onto the field, closely followed by the Bulgarian coach. The referee blew his whistle, stopping the game. Lupin, looking mortified, dove down again and landed next to the prone Bulgarian. He shook his shoulder gently. Shockingly, Krum was still awake, and batted the Irishman's hand away. Then he struggled to his feet, ignoring Lupin's outstretched hand. As he stumbled to his half – buried broomstick, Lupin began to clap. The crowd caught on quickly, and soon they were cheering for the miraculously unhurt Seeker. Ignoring it all, Krum jerked his broom from the ground and took off again. Lupin followed suit.

The game continued. The two teams were tied, and the action was, if possible, getting even more brutal. The Beaters were now getting as close to their targets as possible before slamming them, the Chasers were fouling each other right and left, and the Keepers were making rude gestures at each other from across the field. Lupin had upped the ante on his reckless pranks, but seemed to have removed the Wronski Feint from his pack of Aces. At least, that was what Harry thought until the Irish Seeker pulled into a screaming dive, going almost vertically downward. But when Harry craned his neck and glimpsed a shimmer of gold darting along the ground, he realized that this was no fake. Krum had seen it too, and was hot on Lupin's tail. But the Irishman wasn't called the best flyer in the world for nothing. Despite the Bulgarian Seeker's best efforts, Lupin pulled out of the dive gracefully, the Golden Snitch clutched in one raised fist.

The stands exploded. Harry jumped up with the majority of the spectators, raising his fists in the air triumphantly and screaming his head off. Only one small section of loyal Bulgarian supporters remained sitting, looking extremely disappointed.

"_Lupin! Lupin!_" the crowd shouted ecstatically as the young man rose high into the air, Snitch still held in one outstretched fist. His face was split by an enormous grin, his eyes alight with happiness. And then Krum was there, looking murderous. He had grabbed a Beater's club from one of his teammates and was sneaking up behind the victorious Seeker, club poised to strike. A snarl formed on his lips as he took a swing at Lupin's head.

"Look out!" Harry yelled, though he knew he was too far away to be heard. But by some miracle, or maybe it was heightened werewolf senses, he didn't know, Lupin somehow sensed what was going on behind him and dove out of the way just in time. He sped off down the field, Krum in tight pursuit. The referee blew his whistle desperately, but neither man paid the slightest attention. Lupin was leading Krum on quite a chase, through the goal hoops, up the side of the stadium, into the stands, out of the stands, down to the field where he skimmed his toes on the grass, and spiraling back up into the sky, laughing like a madman the whole way. Obviously, he was not worried in the slightest about Krum and his violent attack; in fact, he looked as though he was having the time of his life. Doggedly, Krum chased after the flamboyant flyer, with slightly less grace and precision, brandishing his club and screaming with unbridled anger. His teammates were shouting at him, obviously trying to get him to calm down, but he was beyond reasoning now. Finally, the referee decided to take decisive action. He took out his wand and pointed it at Krum's retreating back. But right before he was about to cast a spell, the Bulgarian looked back, saw what was going to happen, and dove out of the way.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_"

The jet of purple light hit the back of Lupin's broom, stopping it in midair and sending the young man flying forward…

…right through the window of the Top Box.

Important political figures, actors, musicians, and the Weasleys shouted in alarm when the Irish Seeker crashed through the glass and landed right on top of Ludo Bagman. Shaking glass shards out of his hair, he looked down and grinned cheekily, apparently unshaken by his near death experience.

"Why Ludo! Fancy seeing you here!" His lilting Irish accent seemed to make his already happy tone absolutely jovial. Bagman was slightly less than amused.

"Fancy _squashing_ you here, you mean," he muttered in annoyance.

"Oh, right, sorry." Lupin stood up quickly, offering his hand to his fellow Quidditch player. He hauled Bagman to his feet and clapped him on the shoulder in a friendly fashion. Catching sight of the rather shaken occupants of the Top Box, he smiled sheepishly and looked down at his feet.

"Sorry for the… uh… crash landing folks. Hope everyone's okay!"

"Besides me, you mean?"

"Oh, shut up Ludo."

"Thanks for the concern."

"Here, d'you want me to kiss your boo – boos? If it'll make you feel better…"

"As a matter of fact, it will! Eew, get away from me!"

"What? You asked!"

"I was being sarcastic."

"Well, be more specific next time."

"Um, I hate to break up the party, but we need to escort Mr. Lupin out."

Three security wizards stood at the entrance to the Top Box. They made their way toward the two disheveled men through a crowd of still snickering VIPs.

"Why d'you need to escort him out? The Cup hasn't been awarded yet!"

'We're aware of that, Mr. Bagman. But somebody from the Ministry wants to see Mr. Lupin, and we'd like to keep our jobs, so we've got to take him now. You can award the Cup to the rest of the team."

Ludo looked like he wanted to protest loudly, but Lupin glared at him and stepped forward without complaint.

"So, are you going to handcuff me? Or am I going to have to pretend?"

One security wizard looked at him strangely. "Do you _want_ handcuffs?"

Lupin shrugged. "I don't know. I just thought that if you were going to arrest me, you might as well do it properly."

The security wizard struggled to hide a smile. "You're not under arrest. They're just going to ask you a few questions."

The Irishman smiled. "Oh. So no handcuffs?"

"No handcuffs."

"Right then."

And they led him out.


	2. Chapter 2

Seeker, Chapter 2

Hermione jumped and gave a small scream when Ron thumped the thick newspaper down on the kitchen table.

"Can you _believe_ this?" he shouted indignantly.

"Keep your voice down Ron, some people are still sleeping!" Mrs. Weasley brandished a wooden spoon at him.

"But just _look_ at this, Mum!" he insisted. "They're blaming _Lupin_ for the attack! Somehow that Bulgarian bastard weaseled his way out of it, even though everyone knows it was him!"

"Ronald Weasley! We do not use that language in this house!"

Ron ignored her. "And look! He made up some codswallop about how _'Remus Lupin is a werewolf so he shouldn't be allowed to play'_ and they believed him! They actually sided with him, and now Lupin's banned from ever riding a broom again!"

The kitchen went silent. Then Fred laughed and said, "C'mon Ron, stop kidding around! You know they'd never ban _Remus Lupin_ from Quidditch! I mean, he practically _is_ Quidditch! Without him, the sport's boring!"

But Ron's lips just tightened in a fair imitation of Minerva McGonagall and held the newspaper up for everyone to see. Six pairs of eyes widened in shock.

"_Now_ do you think I'm lying?" Ron hissed.

He most certainly was not. The headline said it all: **'WEREWOLF BANNED FROM FLYING – UMBRIDGE TRIUMPHANT!' **Underneath it was a sickening photo: a short, ugly woman with a butterfly hair pin setting fire to Lupin's broom as he was forcibly restrained by the same security wizards who had escorted him out of the stadium. The Irishman looked anguished, and Harry remembered how he had looked during the game; like flying was what he lived for.

_What's he going to live for now?_ Harry thought sadly.

"Poor boy." Mrs. Weasley sighed. "He seemed to enjoy it so much. What a shame."

George snorted. "A shame, my arse! It's robbery, that's what it is! A crime!"

Everyone agreed emphatically and began talking at once. Everyone, that is, except for Hermione. Ever the bookworm, she jerked the newspaper away from Ron and began to read.

_Remus Lupin, 20, a Seeker for the Irish National Team, was banned from the game of Quidditch yesterday after a vicious attack on the Bulgarian Seeker, Victor Krum, 17. He was also forbidden from flying ever again, and was fitted with a restraining bracelet shortly after the hearing. This blatant violence shown by a werewolf has proven that Dolores Umbridge, Head of the Control of Dark Creatures office at the Ministry, has been right all along._

_"Oh, dragons are fierce enough," she stated in a press conference outside the Wizengamot, where the trial took place. "But they've got to be the dumbest things you'll ever meet, excluding flobberworms. If werewolves were that stupid, they'd be relatively easy to handle. The problem with all half – breeds is that they are too damned smart! They can act human; even pass as human, so they call themselves our equals! And then something like this happens and they claim we're just being prejudiced! I say that we should crack down on these miserable creatures while we still can! Show them who's boss!"_

_And after an attack like this, there's no doubt in this reporter's mind that Miss Umbridge is entirely correct. After meeting Mr. Lupin in person, I have to admit that he is a very charming and humorous individual. But his charisma is obviously hiding his true nature: that of a bloodthirsty, violent beast. One that should be thrown in Azkaban forthwith. _

Hermione couldn't bring herself to read any more. She folded the paper up and threw it in the fire. Everyone cheered.

* * *

"Arthur, he's going to miss the train!"

"He'll be there in a minute, Molly!" Mr. Weasley grabbed Harry by the shoulders and hissed, "Harry, you've got to promise me you won't go looking for Black!"

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why would I go _looking_ for someone who's got it in for me?"

"Arthur!"

"Just a minute! Promise me Harry."

The train was beginning to move. Harry broke out of Mr. Weasley's grip and sprinted after it. Ron and Fred grabbed him and pulled him aboard.

"What was that all about?" Ron asked as they waved goodbye. Mr. Weasley still looked rather worried.

"I'll tell you later." Harry whispered. The two boys found Hermione in the aisle, struggling with a panicked Crookshanks.

"Just hit him over the head, that should do it," Ron told her. She glared at him. When she had finally managed to stuff the cat back into his basket, they continued down the aisle, searching for an empty compartment.

"Can you believe that the _best Seeker in the world_ is actually gonna teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Ron said, lugging his trunk along behind him. Harry shook his head.

"It's blinkin' amazing! I wonder how Dumbledore managed to pull it off, convincing the Ministry and all? I mean, I don't think Lupin ever went to school! How's _he_ going to teach us?"

"Well, he probably knows quite a lot about werewolves…" Hermione said offhandedly as she peered through a compartment window. "Hey, there's only one person in here."

She opened the door and stuck her head in. "Excuse me?" No response. She tried again. "Excuse me, but can we sit here?" Still nothing. Ron pushed by her and into the compartment.

"He obviously doesn't care. Look, he's asleep!"

And so he was. A ratty old baseball cap covered most of his face and his robes were decidedly dirty. He was stretched out along one whole bench, head propped up against the window. The three friends claimed the other bench as their own, and put their luggage in the overhead compartments. Trying to be relatively quiet, they sat down and made themselves comfortable.

"Who d'you suppose he is?" Harry asked, jerking his head in the sleeping boy's direction. Hermione shrugged.

"Probably a seventh year."

"I don't recognize him."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You can't even see his face, Harry."

"Oh yeah."

When they had settled in, Harry proceeded to tell them about Sirius Black and the warning Mr. Weasley had given him on the platform. They reacted in typical fashion; Ron unable to speak from terror and Hermione filling the compartment with her worried warnings and scolding. Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"C'mon guys! I mean, sure, this Black character sounds dangerous, but I'm going to be at Hogwarts! The safest place I could possibly be! And this whole thing with your dad," he nodded to Ron. "Is complete hogwash! Why would I go _looking_ for the blighter? I'm not _completely_ daft!"

Ron looked like he was going to oppose that last comment but was silenced by Harry's fierce glare.

"I'm not going to get all paranoid about this," he continued, "And I'm _not_ in any danger! At least not anything I can't handle. So would you please stop stressing?"

Grudgingly, they complied. The three played cards and Wizard's Chess as the English countryside whizzed past. Neville and Ginny joined them after about an hour, and they had an enormous game of Exploding Snap. The disheveled boy slept through the whole thing. When the food cart came around, Harry treated everyone to a snack. Hermione poked the boy in the shoulder, trying to wake him up in case he was hungry. He grunted and mumbled something unintelligible, then fell asleep again.

They were nearing Hogwarts, and it was getting darker. Suddenly the train began to slow.

"Are we there yet?" Neville asked through a mouthful of Pumpkin Pasty. Ginny shook her head.

"We can't be there yet."

Suddenly the train lurched to a stop. Ginny screamed as she was thrown into Harry's lap. Luggage fell out of the overhead compartments. The boy fell off the bench and landed with a thump and a small "ow". The lights flickered, flickered again, and went out.

"Ouch! Neville, don't sit here, _I'm _here!"

"Ginny, as much as you may need a seat, this is really rather awkward."

"Oh god, Crookshanks! Come back here!"

"What is going _on_?"

"Yo! Quiet!"

The clear voice cut through the chaos like a knife, stopping everyone mid – sentence. There was a scraping noise and a match the strange boy held dimly lit the compartment. His face was still in shadow, and the others peered curiously at him. Something in his voice sounded vaguely familiar. The match burned quickly so he shook it out and lit another one.

"What d'ya suppose is going on?" he asked, his cheerful Irish accent taunting Harry as he struggled to remember where he had heard it before. It was Ron who finally answered the question.

"Your guess is as good as mine."

The boy chuckled. "I highly doubt that. You forget that I was asleep until about five seconds ago. Ouch!"

He lit another match and went to the door. "I'm going to go talk to the driver. Oh, here's your cat."

He bent down, fished Crookshanks out from under the bench, and handed him to Hermione.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Crookshanks, is it? He's a cutie!"

Hermione raised her eyebrows, rather amused to hear a teenage boy utter the word 'cutie'. Lighting yet another match, he made for the door, but something else got there first. A tall, sinister figure, covered in a long black cloak. It stood in the doorway, just looking around at everyone. Then it drew in a long, rattling breath, and everything changed. It was as though life would never be happy again. Everything good, and bright was sucked out of the compartment, replaced by grief and fear. Ron shuddered as he remembered the giant spiders chasing them through the forest, the enormous Queen hitting him over the head in the giant chess game… But he was not the worst off by far. Ginny was shaking, her knees drawn up to her chin as she rocked back and forth on the floor. And beside her Harry was lying face down, twitching. Ron looked back up at the Dementor (for he had heard of these creatures from his father, who spoke of them with fearful hatred), and saw that the mysterious boy was still standing in front of it, his wand out now.

"You will not find Sirius Black here. Go."

The Dementor paid no heed, just stood there breathing in and out. The boy brandished his wand at it and muttered something. Bright, blue light erupted from the end of it, forcing the Dementor backward. With an earsplitting shriek, it turned and fled, leaving the compartment in darkness once more.

Lighting the lantern with his wand, the boy turned back to his terrified companions. It was only then that they got a good look at his face at last. Ron gasped. Hermione and Neville gaped. Ginny just stared.

Their guardian angel was none other than Remus Lupin.

The young man shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny and smiled uncertainly.

"Umm… yeah…" Apparently deciding he would deal with this later, he bent down next to Ginny and put a hand on her arm.

"Are you okay?" She nodded almost imperceptibly. "Okay, let's get you up off the floor, then. There ya go. Actually, that bench doesn't look any more comfortable. Oh well."

He knelt next to Harry and turned the boy over onto his back. Tapping Harry's face gently with one hand, he reached into his pocket with the other and pulled out an enormous bar of chocolate. Handing it to Ron, he said, "Here. Eat this, it'll help." Ron raised an eyebrow. Lupin saw the look and chuckled.

"Chocolate has magical healing properties, didn't you know? It'll make you happier, go on! And no, it does not cause acne, so no pimple worries."

They laughed, and Ron split the chocolate between them all. They looked on in concern as Lupin tried to revive the comatose boy on the floor.

"Do any of you know any wakey – uppey spells?" the world – famous Quidditch player inquired. "I'm afraid I'm rather useless with a wand."

"What was that thing you did to make the Dementor go away, then?" Ron demanded.

"Oh, that was one of the five or so things that I know how to do," Lupin said good-naturedly. Hermione took out her wand.

"Let me," she said, bending down next to him.

"Absolutely, good lady," he said gallantly. Hermione blushed furiously. She jabbed her wand at Harry and mumbled something, and the boy groaned.

"Amazing!" remarked Lupin. Harry's eyelids fluttered, then opened.

"Hermione? _Lupin?_"

The Irishman raised an eyebrow. "Glad to know we're on last – name terms. _Remus_, if you please."

They helped Harry to his feet, and they sat down again as the train began to move. Hermione immediately expressed her concern for the still pale boy opposite her.

"Are you alright Harry?

"I – I think so…" he stammered, running a shaking hand over his face. "Who… who screamed?"

They all exchanged confused glances. "No one screamed, mate," Ron said. "We were pretty close though."

Harry looked confused. "But… but I heard someone… a woman. She was screaming… pleading."

"It was the Dementor," Lupin said bluntly. "The thing that was in here. They feed on good feelings and happiness, leaving only your worst memories to torment you. They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban, and were searching the train for Sirius Black." His blue eyes searched Harry's green ones.

"Harry… Potter, is it?" Harry nodded. Lupin sat back in his seat, an unreadable expression on his face. The compartment was silent for several moments, and then the Irishman leaned forward quickly, obviously deciding that they had brooded long enough.

"Well, I know you're Hermione, and you're Harry. That's a good start. May I have the pleasure of your name?" He was staring at Ginny, who turned bright red under his gaze. Ron rolled his eyes. Finally Ginny managed to squeak it out. Lupin grinned and shook her hand.

"Pleased to meet you Ginny." He turned to Ron. "I assume you're her brother?"

"To my endless shame," Ron said, shaking his idol's hand reverently. "Ron Weasley."

Ginny punched her brother in the arm as Lupin laughed. "Oh, don't worry Ron. I have a younger sister too, and it's not as bad as you think. Just kidding with you, don't hurt me!"

Chuckling, he turned to the only remaining person. "Neville Longbottom," Neville said nervously as they shook hands.

"And I," Lupin said, turning to the rest of the group, "am Remus Lupin, your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Though I doubt I shall be much use." He tapped his skull with his knuckles.

"Hollow as a chocolate Easter bunny, you see."

Hermione shook her head ruefully. This man was quite a character; she could say that for him. Ron, unable to restrain himself any longer, blurted out, "You're the Seeker for the Irish team! We saw you at the World Cup! You're bloody brilliant!"

Lupin grinned. "You were there?" Ron nodded emphatically.

"We were in the Top Box!" The Irishman's eyebrows shot up.

"Whoa, nice! So you must have seen my little accident there at the end? Gotta love that Victor Krum. Yeah, gotta love him…" His happy expression faded, and an angry gleam shone in his eyes. But it was gone a moment later as his grin returned.

"You play Quidditch?" he inquired. Ron shook his head, then gestured at Harry.

"No, but he does." Lupin's crystal blue gaze turned to the black haired boy once more.

"Really? What position?"

"Seeker."

"All right! A comrade in arms!" he exclaimed, pounding Harry on the back. The boy smiled at his excitement. "Do ya like it?"

Harry nodded. "It's great!"

"How long have you been playing?"

"A couple years."

"Brilliant! Well, I'll have to come watch your games, won't I? Man, lookin' forward to it!"

He turned to the others and said, "So, what's this Hogwarts place like anyway?"

They launched into a lengthy explanation, interrupting each other and telling stories about various mishaps involving trick stairs and suits of armor. Lupin listened appreciatively, asking questions here and there and sometimes telling an amusing story of his own. In this way, the rest of the journey passed quickly, and the teenagers exited the train, sure that this year was going to be much better than the last.


End file.
